Succulent Prey (2 page)

the lone fluorescent light at the top of the basement steps flashed on. The bulb

was broken and flickered continuously,

casting eerie shadows around the room.

Joey cringed as the fat kid came back

down the stairs, backlit by the strobelighting fluorescent bulb. He was just one great malformed shadow.

The fat kid was naked. His pale flesh

was stained with Joey's blood, including his short, fireplug-shaped cock, erect

and straining beneath the weight of his low-hanging gut. Joey began to whimper

as the kid's gore-streaked smile came

swooping down at him and he felt those

clammy hands and blubbery lips, that

slimy wormlike tongue, and blunt little teeth worry at him, probing and digging into his wounds, ripping them wider. He began to scream against the duct tape

sealed tight to his lips as he was turned facedown in the tub and he felt the pain lance through him again in rhythmic

thrusts, drawing more blood.

Joseph Miles woke up with his heart

thundering in his chest, his lungs sucking in air and forcing it back out in rapid bursts. His old scars screamed as if

they'd just been made. His eyes slid

back and forth, sweeping the room,

looking for the fat kid. He reached out and stroked the large powerful forms of Hades and Beelzebub, his guardians,

nestled beside him in the bed, one on

each side. The rock-hard muscles coiled beneath their fur reassured him. They

would've torn that fat kid to pieces.

Anyway, he was locked up now. He'd

never hurt Joey again. Stil , Joey was

grateful for his two guardians.

He squinted against the harsh invasive

glare of the morning sun lancing through the cracks in his vertical blinds and tried to wil the clouds to shield him from it. Hades and Beelzebub did not appear to

mind the sunlight nearly as much as he

did. Joey found that surprising. Weren't monsters supposed to fear the light?

That's what the books al said. But the fat kid had snatched him off his bike in

broad daylight and Hades and

Beelzebub loved the sun. They lay

snoring steadily in the warm morning

light.

Their heavy rumbling breaths vibrated

through the mattress like a revving

engine. Joey could stil smel the meaty steel-and-copper scent of flesh and

blood in each exhalation. He cringed,

remembering their last meal.

Joey stared at the two massive beasts,

admiring their fearsome jaws with the

savage, lethal-looking canines. Their

mouths could easily have crushed the

largest bones in his body. Their necks

were as thick as his waist and their legs and shoulders were broad and muscular.

The combined weight of the two

monsters was nearly three hundred

pounds, three times his own weight, and with them lying on the blanket he was

trapped beneath it, unable to move.

Beelzebub was the first to notice that the young boy had awakened. He leapt up

and ran to the head of the bed where he began happily licking Joey's face.

Hades woke up next and soon Joey was

being covered in saliva as the two huge beasts showered him with affection.

Joey hugged them, running his hands

over the smooth black fur coating their muscular bodies, and began to cry. He

knew that if anyone found out what they'd done they would destroy the two beasts

and he'd be alone again. Defenseless.

It had been over a year since Joey had

been attacked and nearly kil ed. That's when his parents had brought home the

two monsters to protect him. For the last six months Joey and his friend Mike had been teaching the two predators how to

kil from a book they'd ordered from

Soldier of Fortune magazine on building prey drive and a Schutzhund video on

bite work. Using a dummy they'd made

of old clothes, they'd taught the two dogs to leap up and rip out a man's throat on command, how to dive for a man's legs

and crush his ankles or rip off his

quadriceps or hamstring muscles with

their massive jaws to bring him down,

how to rip open a man's bel y and tear

out his intestines. They were learning

quickly. Joey had been dying for a

demonstration of their abilities.

Right up until Hades and Beelzebub split little Mikey like a wishbone, Joey had

been confident that he could cal the

dogs off before they went too far. The

fountain of arterial red that splashed his face moments after giving the attack

command had proven him wrong.

He had been standing next to Mikey in

the park. They both had their shirts off and Joey kept catching Mikey staring at the scars on his chest and stomach from where he had been attacked. He knew

that Mikey was about to ask him about

them, that he would have to remember

that horrible night spent in Damon Trent's basement tasting his own blood. The last thing Joey wanted was to remember. He

whistled and pointed at his friend. The two rottweilers turned in unison, baring their fangs. Hades was the first to attack. Mikey had his arm wrapped in a bite

sleeve made from a stolen leather jacket and two thick pil ows, but Hades ignored it. Mikey's eyes widened in fear as the massive beast charged. He held out the

bite sleeve and she dodged it as if it

were a gun, just like she'd been trained to do. She went straight for his throat. Joey couldn't help but be impressed as

he watched that thickly-muscled

instrument of destruction launch herself into the air like a missile, leaping nearly three feet off the ground, her fangs

bared. Her jaws clamped onto Mikey's

throat and she brought him down to the

park floor in a cloud of dust. She began thrashing and jerking her head from side to side, snapping Mikey's neck and

tearing his esophagus to shreds. Blood

erupted from the boy's throat and

soaked the animal's snout. Blood from

Mikey's punctured carotid artery and

lacerated jugular sprayed al over the

ground and doused young Joseph in a

shower of red. He licked his friend's

blood from his lips and a shiver vibrated down to the root of him, giving him an

instant erection.

Beelzebub was just seconds behind his

sister. He dove into Mikey's stomach

and began ripping and tearing at his

abdominal muscles, burrowing his way

to the boy's organs.

Joey's legs trembled. His jaw fel open and his eyes widened in shock. He

reached out his hand toward the dog but hesitated. Something about the sight of the blood, the torn flesh with the white bone and pink-and-purple organs

gleaming through, the sound of muscle

and tendons being ripped by those

merciless fangs, transfixed him. It was so horrible ... so beautiful.

The boy stood frozen, staring as Hades

attempted to tear Mikey's head from his shoulders. Joey tried to shut out the

rattling whistle coming from Mikey's

mangled throat as the boy continued

trying to suck air into his lungs even as Beelzebub tore into him. Joey clapped

his hands and yel ed for the dogs to

stop.

"Down! Down, Hades! Down,

Beelzebub!"

When Hades unclamped her jaws from

Mikey's throat the boy's head was

twisted at an acute angle. There was

little doubt that his neck had been

shattered. His pupils were fixed and

dilated and his chest had ceased its rise and fal .

Joey looked down at his murdered friend and began to cry. He hadn't meant to kil him. His sorrow rained down on him like a summer storm. He was relieved by the

immediacy and intensity of it. Joey knew a lot about serial kil ers. He'd read about them, had almost been kil ed by one,

and had an irrational fear of becoming

one, becoming like the perverted freak

that had kidnapped him and carved him

up in his basement. But he was relatively sure that serial kil ers did not feel

remorse for their victims. As long as he could cry he was sure that he was

normal, even if his tears were more for the two massive rottweilers than for his dead playmate. He knew they would be

put to sleep once the police found

Mikey's body and figured out what had

happened.

Two days later the dogs were destroyed, but not before Joey had taken them

back to the park to watch them feed on

Mikey's remains.

When they arrived at the spot where the attack had taken place the boy's

savaged corpse was stil lying in a heap on the park floor just where Joey had left it. Only now it was seeping fluids other than blood and myriad insects had

begun making a meal of him. Joey found

himself becoming aroused as he

watched the two dogs bite off and

devour huge chunks of the boy's flesh.

He masturbated to his first climax as

Hades devoured Mikey's genitals,

adding his own virgin seed to the bloodsoaked earth.

Chapter Two

Ten Years Later ...

Joe sat in his art class staring at the nude model posing unenthusiastical y

atop a wooden stool. Her breasts were

much smal er than what Joe preferred.

Her hips, ass, and thighs were likewise barely existent. She was proportioned

very much like a prepubescent girl rather than a grown woman. Not at al the type of woman that normal y roused the

beast. But something about her was

getting to him. Her big, vulnerable,

doelike eyes, the seductive smirk turning up the corners of her thick lips or the up the corners of her thick lips or the way they seemed to be constantly

puckered as if blowing a kiss.

Something about her was arousing him.

And that was just not good.

Years ago a psychiatrist had suggested

painting as therapy to help Joe deal with the trauma he'd been through. They

thought it would be good if the shy young boy learned to express himself

creatively. Since then Joe had used his art as an outlet for his fantasies, but as his fantasies had begun to twist and

pervert he'd had to hide his work from

those who wouldn't understand it. He

was now beginning to think this art class might not have been a good idea. It was hard to hide your art in a room fil ed with thirty other students.

Joe's hand trembled as he dragged the

paintbrush over the canvas. More and

more red found its way into his palette as he imagined ripping the waifish

model open and tasting her insides. It

was just one more sign that he was

starting to lose control of himself.

Earlier that day he'd received a cal from his father reminding Joe of how much he was paying for his education and that

he'd better not be out partying al night and getting shitty grades like he had his first year in col ege.

"Don't piss away your chance to make something of yourself by going out every night chasing those col ege sluts. There'l be plenty of time to dip your wick in

those split-tails after you get your

education. Col ege ain't al about beer bongs and toga parties, boy. Don't fuck this up! I can barely afford to keep you there now. I'd be retired now if it weren't for you-you're the only reason I keep

working. But you'd rather get drunk and bang every coed slut you see. Young,

dumb, and ful of cum. You'd better

control that shit this year, boy! Don't let your grades slip again. You hearin' me, boy?"

Joe listened halfheartedly. Loans and

government grants were paying for his

education; al his dad did was send him spending money. He could easily

replace that eighty dol ars a week with a job. Even McDonald's paid more than

that. But something about talking to his father always made the beast hungrier.

His dad always pissed him off and the

anger seemed to trigger the lust.

Joe's hands whipped frantical y back

and forth across the canvas. His palette was now almost completely red, white,

tan, and pink. Blood, bone, and flesh. He was painting the model from the inside

out. He was also panting hard and

staring at her so intently that she began to shiver as she stared back. Joe could feel eyes on him, in back of him. He

could hear them gasp at the mayhem on

his canvas. But he couldn't stop painting. An erection was tenting his pants as he slashed at the canvas with his brush.

Final y, the model snatched up her

clothes and ran out of the room,

breaking the trance Joe had found

himself in. The room went completely

quiet. Joe could stil hear his own

breaths coming hard and fast like a

steam engine at ful speed. He struggled to get himself under control even as he became aware of the stares of his

peers-and the professor. She was the

first to break the silence.

"Uh ... Joseph? That was a pretty intense session there. Do you mind if we take a look at your canvas?" The professor was another starving waif with no

appreciable nourishment on her gaunt

frame. Her skin hung loose against her

bones as if someone had already

sucked out al the muscle and fat. The

bones in her face stuck out prominently and her eyes were sunken back into her

skul . Her dried nest of blonde and gray hair hung in a tangled mess down to her shoulders and her hands were

perpetual y stained with paint. She had always reminded Joe of a walking,

talking skeleton.

Joe said nothing. He watched stoical y

as she lifted the canvas from the easel in front of him. The rest of the class was closing in on him, stepping from behind their own easels and crowding in tight to stare over his shoulder at his